


Sound & Color

by bonestilts



Series: the loco-motion [3]
Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining, Sleepy Cuddles, and some cute cuddles, edit: looking back on this now im very confused as to why i spelt colour the american way, i hope it was intention but i cant remember now, im not american, kasjjsjs oops, lots of thoughts, theyre in love, why did i do such a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 14:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16683247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonestilts/pseuds/bonestilts
Summary: Joe wanted to feel it all over again, like when they were soaking in faux military uniforms all the way in Australia, with mud stuck to their chins and crusty fingers tangled in salt-layered hair. But that, that was different.





	Sound & Color

**Author's Note:**

> ok guys pls dont shame me for the RPF i swear im usually against this type of stuff but atm im gonna own it because they aint ever gonna find this and i sure as hell aint gonna let haters shut me down (reading back on this it sounds very hyPOCRITICAL WHAT)  
> uh but yeah im in love with both rami and joseph so  
> and theyre cute together  
> so i just thought why not, and theres only 1 other work, i needed to contribute
> 
> p.s - as always i havent edited this so, good luck!!

It had been an insanely long day; full of musical rehearsals and concerned calls to his sister. She’d only just become a wife and yet Joe was going to become an uncle any day now, it was worrisome and exciting at the same time. He never wanted to push his beliefs onto her, especially because of the fact that he respected her deeply, she was his only sister, of course he did. But he’d never liked the idea of having children before marriage, or even within the same year as marriage, it made him oddly uncomfortable to think about. Perhaps that was because he hadn't any serious luck with women yet, never had. He’d kept a girlfriend through the last few years of high school, and then another one for the last year of his college life, but they were never serious enough to even consider marriage. The effort tired him, but that was his fault — reasonably so.

He wasn't the straightest boy in the bunch. Though that hardly mattered to his family. Friends? He'd yet to find out.

Then this job came around, Joe was well into his thirties and looking for something new after his last film. He’d directed it, and luckily starred in it, though he wouldn’t have minded completely staying behind the lens. It had been an enormous amount of fun and laughs, Joe’d made new friends, fellow actors and some aspiring to be, it was a great time in his life. Critics were kind to his creation and awards drew to it like a magnet. He’d been proud, then there’d been a dry patch. The calls coming in from other projects began dropping like flies, higher-ups constantly denied his agent’s suggestions, and Joe wasn’t really feeling it anymore. He’d have liked a bit of a rest anyway. 

Rami helped, he always did. He’d helped Joe in on the new works, _Bohemian Rhapsody,_ a Queen biopic. Nothing could have made Joe any more excited, he was desperate for the role, any role in this piece. Bryan was happy with his short-lived audition online and flew him over for a more thorough audition and then eventually their very first read-through. Joe hadn’t seen Rami in almost three years before that point; they’d texted occasionally, usually to congratulate each other or the odd ‘happy birthday dude’, but that was all. They’d hugged it all out and their friendship refreshed its status as if they were back in Australia again. It was magical and, regrettably, made Joe tear up a little when thinking back on it later in his new trailer. He’d always been a softie, it was nothing new. 

Joe and Rami had a history, an awfully confusing one at that, perhaps only confusing for Joe, but there were moments where he caught a whiff of the same questioning from Rami. It was intoxicating, the secrecy of it all, the unknown of their potential yet the fear of taking things too far and not being able to back out. They could possibly ruin both their careers, the one Joe’s been building up since he was five, and the one Rami has worked so desperately hard for. It had never crossed their minds to be worth the risk, so they kept it light and easy. Something they could get away with, a few pecks here and there — behind trailers, a brush of a thumb against the other’s wrist; signalling that it wasn’t over just yet, they still had each other. 

It had ended much like Snafu and Sledge’s fate, a goodbye that never left each other’s lips. Neither had had the courage to say those words when _The Pacific_ came to a close, they gave each other a pat on the back, not too low, recognised the same glint in one another’s eyes and then were swept off the feet and onwards into their Hollywood journey. The truth was; Joe had never understood what Rami saw in him, to consent to what they’d gone through, had never quite believed that the feelings were mutual. It had rarely felt one-sided, but it had been hard to tell back then, they’d been so goddamn careful that there hadn’t ever been much discussing to begin with. It kinda just happened on it’s own and they let it. 

Since sharing a set again, they hadn’t dared pick up where they’d left off. Joe had began to think that Rami had subconsciously removed the abrupt moments from his memory. 

Gwil and Ben were a true blessing, they made Joe laugh like nobody else and he and Gwilym had a real emotional connection. Joe was obvious to the fact that he could easily become the most annoying person on set, he was constantly energetic and was painfully loud at times (all the damn time), yet Gwil smiled through it all and, almost, encouraged Joe to really be himself. Despite how much Rami hated it, that man had delicate ears. The cast and crew were heavenly and Joe found himself thanking whoever it was behind giving him the opportunity to work with all these magnificent people, whether that be a mysterious god or just Bryan Singer’s casting director. 

Today had been different; Joe was overly tired. He had felt his eyelids sagging every time an assistant director called for a short break. Now, luckily, he was back in his trailer and was able to take off the light covering of makeup he had on his face. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Rami, who had fake teeth, dark makeup around his eyes and a fake nose on, all for rehearsals. 

Speak of the devil. There were two short knocks at his door. Joe reluctantly got up off his couch, where he’d been watching _The Usual Suspects,_ Bryan was to blame. Joe let his socked feet pad their way not he carpet all the way to the door, he knew he was on the other side; there was only one person who would bother him after witnessing just how worn out Joe’d been today.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Joe scoffed quietly, he’d only opened the door slightly, peeking out through the sliver of the late afternoon light. Rami stood there in what he’d been wearing on set, a loose, Oxford white shirt and some high, not to mention _tight_ , waisted jeans. 

“Do I want to invite you in?”

Rami smiled at Joe’s brutality, he’d been immune to the falseness of it since twenty-ten. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he queried. 

_If only you knew._ Joe let his lips curve into a tight smile, he hoped it didn’t look like the grimace it felt it to be. He didn’t really want Rami in his personal space at the moment, he didn’t have the energy to keep up an act. Joe wanted to go to sleep.

“I brought your favourite,” Rami said quietly, as if sensing that Joe really wasn’t in the mood for games, he turned calmer, “A peace offering.” and held up a container of bread slices and cheese from behind his slender back. Joe let himself laugh.

“That’s John Deacon’s favourite, not mine.”

Rami stifled a disbelieving jeer, “Whatever, you’re basically the same person anyway. You’ll still like them.” he pushed them further towards him, right underneath Joe’s nose. He finally let the door swing open fully, allowing Rami full access to his safe-place. His kingdom, where he spends most of his time wondering if Rami thinks about him nearly as much as Joe does to him. And other than that, spends it scrolling through Instagram memes and watching Bryan Singer movies on every monitor available. 

“I’m not even sure if I have a microwave.” Joe said under his breath, feeling the movement of Rami walking up his steps from behind him. He found his way to the couch again, resuming his previous position. 

“I’ve never checked,” Rami admitted, looking around in his tiny kitchen for a few minutes before slapping the contained on the bench and tumbling towards Joe, “There’s no way I’m going right down to the kitchen, we’re not that desperate, are we?” It was Rami’s way of asking if Joe was hungry, and subtly, if he was alright. 

Joe smiled softly at the man sitting on the armrest of the couch, he was a foot away, close enough to reach out and place a warm hand on a boney knee. He was alright, wasn’t he? Was he? He didn’t feel too alright, the nerves and excitement caught up to him soon enough, Joe had become overwhelmed in no time. By both the demanding project and Rami Malek’s presence. It sickened him, he felt ill right down to the pit of his belly, it wasn’t supposed to be that easy. It wasn’t supposed to be brought on by a man either, but history couldn’t be changed. Joe supposed he’d just have to deal with the reality of his situations, and relationships. 

“Yeah — we’re fine.” Was he talking about the cheese on bread? He didn’t let himself evaluate. “I’m actually feeling really tired, Rami. Maybe you can come back later.”

Rami was looking down at him, from his spot on the couch he was the more dominant figure, he was like Joe’s God. He didn’t dare look up at him, he just blankly stared at the television to Rami’s right, clinging to the wall. He would give himself away if he looked, Rami would be able to tell.

“No way. I’ve finally got you, you aren’t escaping his time, Mazzello.” 

What was Rami referring to? Joe frowned to himself, it wasn’t very often that Rami, out of all people, would call him by his last name. He must be feeling uncomfortable, awkward even, oh fuck — Joe was making Rami feel these things. He needed to make him leave somehow, excuses, excuses. Joe didn’t want Rami feeling these things whilst with him, he was just tired; that was all. 

“What do you mean?” he betrayed himself. Wasn’t supposed to continue the conversation, Rami wants to leave. Just as much as Joe does. 

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for an entire week, a bit more actually. Almost two. You’re hard to catch nowadays.” Rami’s tone dropped, he wasn’t being overly playful anymore, he sounded remorseful. Did he regret it all? It had been so many years, almost ten, since they’d last done _that,_ Joe had been sure that Rami had forgotten. What was he talking about now?

Joe looked up at him, tilted his chin to the left and connected eyes with Rami. Aqua flashed against golden. Rami’s eyes were glassy, he looked just as tired as Joe did, most likely more, he had the pressure of embodying the legendary Freddie Mercury. John Deacon had always been under-appreciated, less people would be paying attention to Joe’s details (which didn’t mean he was going to try his goddamn hardest to make the man himself proud), but Rami had more eyes on him. More critics and voices, more feedback. He looked exhausted. Joe’s stomach gave way. 

“Are _you_ okay?”

Rami looked taken-a-back, “About what?”

There weren’t many options, nothing else other than their current project that he could be truly referring to. Joe wondered what Rami was getting at. Was it that he really did remember? Joe couldn’t risk it. “What else could I be talking about? Bohemian.”

“Oh.” Joe heard a spike of disappointment, “Mhm — that’s all good, we’ll be recording soon enough,”

Rami stood up suddenly, he stopped closer to Joe and let his foot rest in the space between his knees. It wasn’t anything suggestive, nothing explicit, it was a little detail that only Joe would pick up — of course he would, he couldn’t take his mind off the multiple possibilities when it came to being alone with Rami, secluded at best.

“Thank god,” Joe let him in by speaking, even just briefly, he didn’t want Rami thinking he was uninvited. Thinking back on it, he had been, but Joe was better than to keep it that way — no one would ever understand how much Joe needed Rami in his life; which counted for his both his validation and judgment. It was poisonous, dangerous to live with, yet Joe let himself be sucked into Rami’s world because he wanted it that way. He wanted to be with him, whether that was hidden away in the depths of a forgotten storage room, or attempting to cover their faces from the paps with baseball caps and pretending that they hadn’t ever been attached by the hip. Joe earned for Rami. 

“You excited? Gwil wouldn’t stop talking about it the other day, you’d gone for a lesson, but he wouldn’t shut the hell up.” Rami blew air out through his pursed lips, he looked content. Maybe even happy. Joe wondered if he had anything to do with it. 

He nodded to himself, “Yeah, I’m excited, yeah.”

There was a beat of silence. Joe didn’t know how to go on. He really was tired, tired and confused and torn and _wanting_. Wanting to touch and caress the man sitting to his left, wanted to whisper sweet nothings into his ear late—painfully early in the morning, wanted to connect the freckles on his shoulders like a dot-to-dot, creating an array of starry constellations. He wanted to see the shadows from the night fall into the purity of Rami eyes, making them sinfully dark, just one more time, only once more before they were to part ways again — probably for another decade. Joe begged for it, silently, mentally, to himself and used his only wishes on Rami, to be with him again in a way no one else could even imagine. They’d once been so connected that Joe had believed nothing could seperate them. Then came their respective Hollywood fame, the power that that kind of status held was unfortunate.

Rami cleared his thought, it was awkward again, “How was that lesson, by the way? I’d never gotten the chance to ask you about it.”

Joe can hardly even remember. “Just as good as the rest of them. I think I’m really getting the hang of it now, just wish Deaky could be here to witness this all go down. He’d be proud, I think.” That was true. He had given them his blessing, his luck and consent for Joe to slip into his shoes, to get a perm and attempt at his loveable accent. He was a wonderful man, much older now, Joe’d only been able to meet his children — John didn’t seem to really want anything to do with the production, but everyone was just grateful that he’d allowed them to include him. “How ‘bout your singing? You’re really starting to sound like Freddie now.”

Rami smiled, “Yeah right. There’s a lot progress to be made, but so far… so far’s so good. I couldn’t thank Marc enough, he’s been incredible to me.” 

Something in Joe vanished, must have been something vital too, because it made him feel hollow all of a sudden. It stung him in the chest, those words coming out of Rami’s mouth affected him in ways he didn’t want to explore, or admit. It hurt, _‘he’s been incredible to me’,_ Joe wanted to snarl — wanted Rami to talk about how incredible he’d been to him, all those years ago. If he had at all, if his impact was memorable enough to stick around in Rami’s constantly busy mental log. He was being so childish, so, so immature — and he hated himself for it, though Joe knew he couldn’t stop it anymore, it had been mended into him. Burned into his system just like Rami.

“That’s really good, Rami.” It wasn’t good at all, Joe felt ill all over again. He trailed his eyes back over to the television, watched the expression on Kevin Spacey’s face and wondering distantly where he was this very instant. They were in the same timezone, it was almost dinner time, did he have a family to eat with? Did he have any friends anymore? After what he did, after what people claimed he did, after what he admitted to doing? 

The silence on behalf of Rami let Joe continue thinking. He’d always admired Kevin, thought he’d been an exceptionally fine actor, he held himself through Hollywood well (or at least they’d been led to believe so), had managed to joke along with the homosexual remarks, the rumours, the reports. He’d been a good man, Joe had always wanted to meet him. Joe wondered if he’d be able to do what he did — keep a smile on his face while people threw crude names at him, inappropriate exclaims and, quite possibly, facts. Would Rami be able to? Would he care? Does Joe care? Was there a point in hid—

“Joe?”

There was a finger brushing his shoulder, right up against the soft material of his white shirt. He was underdressed compared to Rami, who was kept upright with his tight fitting wear while Joe looked like he’d just remembered who the hell he was. A former child actor on his way to becoming the new John Deacon. Ha, almost.

“Yes?” he replied. It was much quieter than he’d intended. Weaker than he’d wanted.

“You alright?” 

Joe didn’t let himself look up, he kept studying the younger face of a now much older man, now painted with age related creases and sad looking eyes, silently calling from help, from anyone who was willing. One who was frightened by his own reality, looking for an easy escape to get away for a bit, take a breather from his own mind and voice. Sometimes that’s who Joe saw in the mirror too, except he’d never gone so far as to even dare touch a—

“Joe.”

Rami snapped him back up, always did, it was always him. Joe looked this time, looked straight into his eyes again. Damn his eyes. Rami showed pure concern on his face, Joe could tell he wasn’t bothering to mask it anymore. He knew that Joe was almost done, too, they were both fighting the same battle — Rami and Joe were once again in this ordeal together. He understood now.

“Here,” he reached out a small hand, his palms had always been insanely small, Joe admired them, adored them even, “Let’s get you to bed. Your eyes look like they’re about to drop out of your damn head.”

Joe reached up and took it, allowing Rami to use his remaining strength to get Joe to his feet too. He felt wobbly at first, his knees were weaker than before Rami arrived; and he knew why. They made their way across to the other side of his trailer, opened the two sliding doors leading to his bed and Rami _plonked_ Joe down on the end of the mattress, making it dip. 

“Shoes?” Rami didn’t allow Joe enough time to answer, he dropped down to his knees and let his fingers scramble with the laces of his Stan Smiths. Joe questioned why he had them on in the first place, he didn’t remember entering his trailer earlier that day. Everything had blurred into one moment; the knock of a smaller, tanner fist against his door. Joe didn’t like the images that popped into his head or the replaying sound of Rami’s jean-clad knees sliding against the carpet in his ears despite there being near complete silence in the room.

Joe watched Rami’s hands slow, watched as his brain cogs caught onto something, a need, something desperate. It clicked audibly and Joe just so happened to hear it — maybe he knew Rami better than he’d thought. Maybe he truly did remember, perhaps it was all coming back to him. The proximity. 

Rami sighed quietly, Joe’s ears pricked. He felt the weight of the bed on his palms disappear as soon as Rami’s forehead made contact with his knee, he was resting it there like a promise, like he was trying to say something without having the courage to. His heart was buzzing. Rami didn’t say anything, he’d stopped trying to undo the other foot full of laces, instead his hands rested limp against Joe’s (once completely) white shoe. It was almost perfect.

“Let me help you. Please.”

Helping with shoes wasn't an option, he'd given up half way and Joe hadn't even attempted to stop him. That was out of question, so, what was he begging for? He usually wasn’t the one of them that begged. Joe couldn’t get any words out, his mouth was open, not that Rami could see, not with the plane of his forehead still pressed against the hair-covered skin of Joe’s knee. He wondered if that bothered Rami, the fact that he had dense hair on his legs, that he had hair on his chest, on his stomach, a trail of it leading down to an organ that women didn’t have; the fact that he was a _man._ Rami wasn’t moving, so he tried again.

They didn’t need to discuss what it was Joe needed help with — it wasn’t anything too explicit. He wasn’t in need of a lay, or to be touched, although he yearned for those things from Rami as if it were air, he could do just fine without. He did need help with himself, with the control and the way he was unable to accept it; that their time together was in the past now, he needed to learn to stop dwelling. Joe got the sense that Rami had caught onto that fairly early on, he’d been extra gentle with Joe this project — which must be why. He must have been afraid that Joe would shatter with the slightest push in the wrong direction, even a misunderstanding, an incorrect choice of words, any of that could have broken Joe in two. 

What he did want to know, though, was—

“Why?”

Joe kept his eyes on the crown of Rami’s head as he slowly lifted it, he was being oh-so careful. His chin was grazing the fine hairs on his leg, it was infuriatingly close to being just what Joe wanted, yet it was still no where near it. Rami didn’t look anywhere else other than Joe’s sagged eyes, they weren’t able to communicate through mere looks anymore — they had been able to back in Australia, but that, that was different. Things were different, Rami wanted to help, Joe hadn’t been able to transition yet. 

Funny enough, they’d actually spoken about it to each other earlier. Back when they were both still in the auditioning phase. Joe spilt his entire heart out to Rami, and he returned the favour — though without fully realising it, Joe had only told Rami what he felt was appropriate, what was safe, to say at the time, and in the moment even managed to convince himself that that was all there was to say about them, about how he felt. Yet it didn’t even touch the surface of his struggles; and Rami must have known that — either that or he’d ignored his own acknowledgement about Joe’s internal battle. 

Until now.

“Because you’re drowning yourself.” Rami rose from his knees, he was leaning over Joe slightly and placed a palm on each of his shoulders, it was mesmerising, Joe couldn’t take his eyes off him, “You’re drowning yourself and you’re not bothering to call out for help. I can’t let — you can’t do it. Please, let me help you.”

Joe was pushed down onto his back. So much was happening at once that it took him a few seconds to realise that Rami had begun straddling his thighs. Now _this_ was perfect. The buzzing shot through down to the rest of his body, Joe was in bliss. Rami Malek was balancing on his lap whilst rubbing soothing circles into the meat of each of his shoulders with his stubby little thumbs — it was both comforting and exhilarating. 

“I don’t know if you can.” Rami was the _only_ one who most definitely could.

Rami leant down to coo softly into his ear, “It’s okay, I’m here now, I’m going to help you. We’re going to be okay.”

Joe let himself smile lazily, his eyes were becoming droopier by the second. He didn’t want to feel so exhausted, he wanted to finally have this, have Rami. He’d worried, and waiting, for an agonisingly long time, it hadn’t been fair — now it was happening, Rami was willing, he’d understood, he’d felt back, he’d proved that it hadn’t all been a dream. 

“I’m so fucking tired.”

Joe felt Rami nod against the junction between his neck and ear, it was such a soft brush of skin that it almost made him whine. Rami let out a short snicker, it was thrumming with affection — perhaps he _had_ whined. 

“Good. We don’t have to do anything tonight, or ever, if you don’t want to. I only—“

“ _No_. No, I want. I want so bad.” 

It came out too fast, his brain hadn’t been able to catch up to the process, to consent to letting it out into the stifling air. But it was true, Joe wanted it desperately, wanted to hold him close, to feel Rami’s warmth radiate into his own body; to mimic the motion of becoming one being. He wanted to feel it all over again, like when they were soaking in faux military uniforms all the way in Australia, with mud stuck to their chins and crusty fingers tangled in salt-layered hair, quiet moans stuck deep in each other’s throats, too afraid to let slip incase a producer was just around the corner, in case they broke the illusion of real war, of real secrecy, of real love. 

Rami laughed again, this time his whole body had slumped over Joe’s, nose to nose, hip to hip. Thankfully they were both relatively on the shorter side when it came to gaining metres, they were smaller than most, and it made up for extra comfort when cuddling. 

“ _Good_.”

Joe felt light and airy, this was it. This was his safe-place, this is where he would be happy with staying forever. Right in this moment, a drowsy Rami draped over his body, a hand splayed on his freckled back, shoulder blades pocking through a crisp dress shirt, mumbling sweet those nothings into the sensitive skin of each other’s necks. This was all Joe had wanted. 

Their peaceful time passed agonisingly slowly, he was so goddamn tired. Joe had just about left consciousness when Rami spoke up again in a hushed tone.

“Bet you’re glad you invited me in now.”

Joe smiled widely, he couldn’t open his eyes — too much effort, they were glued shut. He was in love with this feeling, was in love with whom took up his personal space. He could feel Rami curl tighter into his frame, they were the perfect puzzle pieces. 

“Couldn’t be any more glad if I tried.”

**Author's Note:**

> if u did like this pls give feedback/kudo/comment for me i will cry  
> thanks babs


End file.
